


Thinking Out Loud

by Dem0nLight



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Because of course he does, F/M, Female Reader, Psychic Abilities, Reader-Insert, Selectively Mute Reader, venom eats heads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2019-09-02 20:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16793785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dem0nLight/pseuds/Dem0nLight
Summary: You have always suffered in silence because of your ability to read minds. But then you found someone that only you could hear--you and the man hosting him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Prompts Full of Venom](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15966161) by [SnarkyBadger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnarkyBadger/pseuds/SnarkyBadger). 



> So it’s been a hot minute since I wrote any fanfic and I’ve been geeking out about the Venom movie for a few months, so I figured I’d throw my hat into the ring for the fun of it. 
> 
> This story was inspired by SnarkyBadger on tumblr and their lovely collection of reader inserts, particularly the ones with mutant/powered reader characters.

Being a mind-reader was like living in hell most of the time. Every day, the secrets of every passerby was bared to you, coming in all shades of ugliness. If you were lucky, the most dishonest thing someone had done was tell a white lie to their mom about how well they were doing. More often than not, you were overwhelmed with the personal garbage of everyone on the trolley. It was impossible to entirely tune out, like hundreds of people shouting all at once, unaware that someone was able to hear them. Nighttime was much better, far fewer mental voices though they tended to be more unpleasant to hear if you encountered them. 

Still, the worst part of being a mind-reader was knowing exactly what everyone thought of you at any given moment. Compliments were few and far between, especially once whoever you encountered realized that you were selectively mute. Sometimes you encountered people who pushed their initial reactionary thoughts aside and tried to keep see you positively, but they were rare gems. More often, you sensed some kind of disgust and a few times even malicious intent. It was incredibly difficult to make friends when you knew exactly what each person wanted from you.

At least your gift was able to help a few people: you worked as a nighttime janitor for a hospital and were able to sense which patients were the most lonely and in need of a kind gesture. You always made sure to leave them a gift or to nudge their minds into calling a friend or family member. It wasn’t much, but feeling someone’s mood shift into happiness was enough to keep you going. 

It was thanks to that very job that you had met the Demon of San Francisco.

It was your typical shift, replacing the garbage liners and mopping the hall floors while discreetly visiting those you felt needed it. While you were passing by one of the rooms, you sensed an extra person inside it, someone who didn’t belong. No...two people? One of the minds didn’t feel...right--hostile and primal in a way you had never encountered.

You hesitated, uncertain if you should go in or not. The patient, however, was in distress, mentally pleading for someone to intervene. Plucking up your courage, you softly knocked and entered the room.

The sight you were met with surprised you: the patient was shifting nervously in their bed and across from them was a man in a leather jacket with heavy bags under his steely eyes. No sign of the third mental presence you felt. It seemed to be...attached to the stranger somehow?

Suddenly realizing that you were being stared at, you felt your throat close up and you fumbled in your pockets for the notecards you kept on hand for situations like this. Rummaging through them, you pulled one out and flipped it around. The stranger stepped forward to read it aloud.

“‘Is everything okay?’ Um, yeah, we’re fine,” he said, confusion coloring his mind and tone. 

“ _ WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER, EDDIE? _ ”

The mental voice cut through the room and you reflexively flinched. It was so loud, aggressive and distinctly masculine. But despite being its own voice, it seemed amplified by the mind of the stranger. Who was this man?

“ _ Oh no, she can’t help. _ ”

The patient’s thought interrupted your alarm. Pulling yourself back into reality, you extended the notecard towards them and nodded, trying to seem encouraging and not as shaken as you really felt. The patient glanced at the stranger and you rummaged for a different card, holding it up to ask “what is going on?”

“This gentleman was interviewing me about my...accident,” the patient replied slowly. “He believes...there could be a connection to something criminal.”

You didn’t have a card to express your next question, so you pointed at the stranger and then gestured to the door. After repeating the motion a few times, the patient understood.

“No,” they said, shaking their head. “No, I don’t need him to leave. I just…”

“Would you feel more comfortable if she stayed?” the stranger inquired, stepping towards the patient. Upon getting a nervous nod in return, the leather-clad man turned to you, extending his hand. “Eddie Brock, reporter.”

You pointed to your nametag before taking a seat next to the patient and listening in to the rest of the interview. As the conversation progressed, you made certain to hold the patient’s hand or rub their shoulder soothingly to help keep them calm. You tried to block out the strange mental voices of Eddie Brock and whoever else seemed to be speaking in his head, but the loud second voice was distracting. Even stranger, it seemed to be speaking directly  _ to  _ Eddie and he was responding to it, though not with worded thoughts. 

When Eddie had finished his interview and shook both yours and the patients’ hands, he left without another word. You made sure the patient was settled back in and comfortable before leaving yourself and returning to your janitor cart. To your surprise, Eddie was standing next to it, very obviously waiting for you. 

“Hey,” he greeted you. You were frozen in place, unsure what he was doing.

“ _ WHY ARE WE STILL HERE? _ ” the mysterious loud voice complained. “ _ I’M HUNGRY. _ ”

“I just wanted to say thanks for helping out back in there,” Eddie continued, ignoring the strange comment you know he must have somehow heard. “I really needed this interview to wrap up a pretty complicated case.”

“ _ YOU SAID THANKS, NOW CAN WE GO? _ ”

“So...yeah. Thanks again. Hope you have a good night.”

With that, he turned to leave and you stepped up to your cart. As you returned to work, you caught another thought from Eddie and his...friend?

“ _ Well that wasn’t an incredibly awkward goodbye. _ ”

“ _ WE’RE ALWAYS AWKWARD WHEN IT’S YOU TALKING. _ ”

***

You had initially brushed off the encounter with Eddie Brock as a one-off event. While it was an odd experience, it wasn’t the first time you’d met a mutant--if that’s what he was--and ultimately wouldn’t be something that would happen again. 

Except it did. Sort of. 

You had been at the store, waiting in line to check out and eager to get home when a rowdy group of gang members came in and started harassing both employees and customers. It had suddenly escalated when one bold cashier had asked them to leave and a man with at least ten piercings had pulled a gun out. The store almost immediately went into a panic and you found yourself knocked to the floor in the stampede. You barely managed to haul yourself behind a snack rack before the gunfire flew wildly through the air. You were paralyzed, unable to scream or do anything to release some of the terror holding you bound. The fear of everyone in the store rebounded in your head, clouding your brain in a haze of collective emotion.

And then you felt him.  _ Them _ .

The mental voice was a primal roar, echoed by the same outward sound that interrupted the gang’s wild shooting for a moment.

You couldn't see any of the action, but you didn't need to: the minds of the gang members supplied more than enough. You could feel their horror and revulsion, catch flashes of the unnaturally huge, black creature with too many teeth...and feel the sudden silence as minds were torn from consciousness into nothing.

The shooting stopped, but there was still a single gang member left. You were unable to pull your mental focus from the panic and the visual of the black monster stalking forward, reaching out a clawed hand. The moment of their death was awful, the sounds and pain so clear and so suddenly cut off that you retched, unable to hold back being sick any longer.

You distantly heard sirens approaching, thoroughly detached from the feelings of relief everyone else shared. You couldn’t get the sensation of being  _ eaten  _ out of your head, the noises and sudden silencing of thoughts.

And then you heard it.

_ “THIS IS THE ONE FROM THE HOSPITAL. I TOLD YOU I SMELLED SOMEONE FAMILIAR.” _

The snarling, primal thoughts dragged you into the present, your eyes locking onto a familiar face--Eddie Brock, the reporter. You instinctively jolted back, unable to make a peep in your panic.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” Eddie rushed to say, trying to sound soothing but his flustered thoughts betraying him. “The police are here and the gang is gone.”

“ _ WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER, EDDIE? _ ”

You recoiled and curled into the fetal position. Eddie was the thing that had killed those people. And yet he was trying to pretend that he hadn’t just eaten someone. You had to communicate, but your voice was useless. You had only one option.

Psychically speaking with words to was harder than communicating with emotions or offering mental suggestions, but you were desperate to get the monster away from you. Mustering your strength, you lashed out with all the mental will you could muster.

“ _ Get away from me! _ ”

Eddie flinched at the force and the second voice went silent. And then a sensation you could only describe as a vicious, toothy grin came from the strange, loud mind.

“ _ YOU CAN HEAR ME, CAN’T YOU LITTLE MORSEL? _ ”

Nope. Too much. 

The world slanted violently and then everything went blank.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I wasn't expecting there to be such a response to this! Granted, I feel like this second part isn't necessarily as good as the first, but that might just be me too much in my own head.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

You could hear them speaking to each other before you opened your eyes. Eddie was actually whispering aloud to himself, the creature in his head maintaining the use of telepathy. 

“What on earth were you thinking?! I know she needed to be somewhere safe until she woke up, but we could have called an uber or something! If anyone saw us--”

“ _ IF ANYONE SAW US COME HERE, WE WOULD KNOW ALREADY. BESIDES, NO ONE IN THIS NEIGHBORHOOD QUESTIONS ANYTHING _ .”

“That doesn’t make it a good idea!”

You laid perfectly still, trying to peek through your eyelashes at your surroundings. It looked like a cheap apartment from what you could tell and it felt like you were laid out on an equally cheap couch. But what occupied your attention was the pacing figure with his back to you, speaking in what was an attempted whisper to...a balloon?

“EDDIE, HER HEARTBEAT HAS CHANGED. SHE’S AWAKE.”

“Wait, what--?”

You bolted up and sprinted towards the first door you saw. You struggled with the chain latching it shut and suddenly felt something snatch you by the shoulder and turn you around. You hardly had the time to gasp when the strangely warm, sticky substance spread across your shoulders, cementing your back against the door.

“I’m sorry, I’m not doing this, I swear,” Eddie said in a stumbling rush. You stared in horror at the unnatural black pillar that was emerging from his outstretched arm, the very thing that was pinning you in place. “He just...he doesn’t want you to run before we’ve had a chance to explain ourselves.”

_ Ourselves? What on earth? _

“ _ NOT FROM EARTH, ACTUALLY _ .”

You hadn’t realized you’d been projecting your thoughts in your panic until you heard the strange, loud voice respond to them. You instantly ceased the projections and braced yourself for whatever these two wanted to do with you.

* * *

It turned out what they’d wanted to do was talk. You’d gotten the short version while still trapped against the door--that the voice you kept hearing was an alien creature named “Venom”, which had bonded to Eddie after a story gone wrong. When you’d asked to hear more, the black tentacle retreated and you joined them at the kitchen table. When they’d finished, you made a writing gesture with your hand and Eddie ran to get a notepad and pen for you.

_ Did you have to eat those people back at the store?  _ You scribbled before passing it to the pair across from you. Eddie read it and you heard him mentally pass it on to Venom.

“Well...pretty much. We, uh, we need to consume certain organs to keep Vee healthy and to prevent him snacking on my insides,” Eddie replied, scratching idly at his stubble.

“ _ THEY WERE BAD GUYS ANYWAY. THEY DESERVED TO DIE _ .”

That caught your attention. You gestured for them to hand back the notepad and began writing again.

How do you know they were bad? Is it one of your powers?

“ _ WE JUST KNOW _ ,” Venom said as soon as Eddie finished reading it. “ _ IT’S LIKE EDDIE TOLD US: IT’S OBVIOUS WHEN THEY ARE BAD GUYS _ .”

_ But what if they are forced to do bad things? What if they are desperate? _

That gave the pair some pause. Venom asks for clarification and Eddie immediately supplies memories and examples--memories of interviewing the homeless, of interviewing convicts about to be tried and stories of Robin Hood and other well-intentioned criminals. You feel almost bad for listening in, but it must be night because there aren’t any other conscious minds nearby that you can focus on instead.

“...I mean, we really only go after people who are threatening others,” Eddie finally said, heaving out a big sigh. “The men in the store had real guns and were holding the place up.”

You gave a sigh yourself and put your hands in your lap. The memory of those people’s final thoughts made you shudder, almost able to feel the crunch of teeth through your skull.

“ _ Should we ask if…? _ ”

“ _ YES. ASK. _ ”

“When we were...back in the store, when Venom and I were finishing off the criminals, did you...did you feel it? I mean, did you feel what it was like to be...eaten?”

You almost laugh at the question, but you realize that most of the conversation had been focused on Venom, not you; they didn’t know how your “power” really worked or what it actually was. You wave for them to pass the notepad and take your time with your response, picking the right words.

_ I’m like a mind reader except I can’t turn it off. Wherever I go, I hear people’s thoughts like they’re talking out loud, but it “sounds” different because I don’t hear it with my ears. A lot of the time, it’s not words, but feelings and impressions that I pick up on. It tends to be overwhelming, so I tune out a lot, but I’m always “hearing” at least one or two people at a time. And I don’t really experience empathy like you’re thinking--I just get mentally absorbed sometimes in what I hear and get a secondhand feeling off it. Like watching a really good actor in a movie. Except with a lot more certainty about what the emotion feels like.  _

You looked over the explanation and frowned at it. This was really new, trying to actually explain what you experienced every day. The words seemed...limited. You scribbled out the paragraph and wrote a new sentence:

_ Do you want me to try showing you? _

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up and Venom’s curiosity sparked almost simultaneously. There was an immediate mental conflict between their thoughts: the symbiote wanted very much to experience what you were hearing while his host was more reluctant. You tugged back over the notepad.

_ You don't have to. I understand if you'd rather not. It's not fun. And I want you both to agree on whether or not we do it. Besides, it’s probably similar to the way you two communicate, just with a lot more participants. _

“ _ EDDIE’S JUST BEING A WIMP _ ,” Venom complained, ignoring his host’s immediate protests. “ _ WHEN I WAS IN SPACE, IT WAS THE ONLY WAY TO COMMUNICATE WITH THE OTHERS. YOU GET USED TO NOT HAVING PRIVACY. _ ”

_ But I just listen _ , you wrote. _ I can’t really “talk” to others. It takes a lot more energy than its worth to articulate actual words in someone else’s head. _

“ _ YOU JUST NEED PRACTICE. EDDIE’S A TOTAL LOSER AND HE’S ADJUSTED TO IT JUST FINE _ .”

You frowned. It could be an option but…

_ Maybe, maybe not _ , you wrote.  _ Either way, it’s safer to be silent. Gifted people tend to be taken advantage of. Even people who are  _ _ suspected  _ _ of having powers are in danger. _

“ _ WE WOULD DEVOUR ANYONE WHO TRIED! _ ” Venom snarled, the emotional force behind his words giving you an instant headache. You were about to scribble some kind of response when your phone began to ring from back on the couch. You immediately dropped your pen and felt yourself stop breathing. Eddie got up and quickly jogged back to the living room while you recovered from the surprise.

“It’s someone named Lauren!” he called, holding your phone and returning to the kitchen.

Oh snap. Lauren. You should have known she would have called.

You held out your hand as the ringtone finished and immediately opened the lockscreen to read your texts. Sure enough, one popped up a moment later.

LAUREN: Hey, were you going out tonight? You’re way late.

You smiled. Despite being your landlord, Lauren was probably your best friend and she looked after you, aware that your selective mutism was a daily struggle. You immediately replied to her message.

YOU: It wasn’t planned, but I’m ok. Wrapping up now.

You exited your messages and opened the notes app, typing and flipping the screen around so Eddie could see.

_ Can you take me home? _

“Sure,” he replied. “Just...how do you feel about motorcycles?”

* * *

The ride back to your apartment was breathtaking. It had taken a little longer than expected to actually get on the road, what with Venom insisting you didn’t need a helmet, that he was all the protection the two of you needed. He’d eventually caved when you indicated you had never ridden a motorcycle before and would prefer to have the helmet as an extra precaution. 

Starting out it had been scary, the way the bike wobbled whenever Eddie lifted his feet off the ground, but once you got up to speed, you were actually tempted to ditch the helmet, just to feel the wind through your hair. All you could hear was the revving of the engine and Eddie’s idle thoughts--occasionally interrupted by Venom’s questions about dinner every so often. It was actually...nice.

All too soon, you’re outside your apartment complex. You carefully stepped off the bike and pulled off your helmet. 

“Looks like a decent place,” Eddie commented, looking up and down. “When you mentioned this part of town, I was a little concerned.”

You shrugged. You’d come here for the cheap rent and had luckily hit it off with Lauren. She made sure that everyone in the complex was accounted for every night and would tear the city apart to find anyone who went missing. But that didn’t stop you from overhearing all sorts of shady thoughts every other night.

Facing Eddie, you offered him a small smile and held out your hand. He looked at it for a second before taking his hands out of his leather jacket and accepting the gesture with a grin of his own. When you released your grip, he immediately reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a wedge of folded paper.

“Here’s my number...in case you need anything.”

You accepted the paper and stared down at it. He...wanted to stay in contact? Despite you not speaking a word to him? 

Glancing up, you watched Eddie get on his motorcycle and start it up. Then you heard a thought directed directly towards you.

“ _ I LOOK FORWARD TO SPEAKING WITH YOU AGAIN, MORSEL. IT WILL BE NICE TO HAVE SOMEONE OTHER THAN EDDIE TO TALK TO. _ ”

You thought for a second your cheeks might have warmed up, but you rebuffed the idea. You must have been imagining the affectionate nature of the alien’s words.


	3. Aftermaths and New Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After your adventure yesterday, it's time to come back to reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo. Sorry for vanishing for months. Moving is a pain. And the job search. 
> 
> Let me know what you think. I don't know how I feel about this chapter.

You knew you were in trouble when you saw Lauren's smug face the next morning. If she didn't make the best breakfasts in the world, you'd have turned around and walked right out.

You managed to avoid looking at her directly long enough to sit at the table and pour yourself some juice, but Lauren picked up your glass and held it out if reach, still grinning.

“Gurl, who was that hunk you rode in with last night?” she signed with one hand.

“Shut up!” you signed back, feeling your face flush. “It's not like that!”

You swiped at your captive juice but Lauren was much taller than you and she smiled down at you.

“Spill,” she challenged, her fingers translating her sass with a flourish.

“It was not a date, we barely know each other and he was just dropping me off. Now juice!”

“Details girl. Details.”

“I didn't have dinner! Let me eat!”

That broke her teasing mood. Lauren finally relinquished the cup and ran to get the hot breakfast off the stove. You felt a slight twinge of guilt as she began to fill your plate more than usual, taking a noticeably smaller portion for herself.

To anyone else, Lauren’s behavior may have just seemed motherly but you knew better. Your psychic eavesdropping had caught more than one memory of Lauren as a disadvantaged teen, hungry and turned away from entry-level work because of her deafness. You knew all about her determination that no one renting from her would lose as much opportunity as she did worrying about when they were going to eat next. No one else could know that, however: your landlady was a well-dressed, modern woman who got her hair dyed some new radical color every other month. Without your power, you wouldn’t know the reason why she invited you to breakfast, that she planned to ensure you had at least one decent meal every single day.

But you feigned your usual innocence as you dug into the delicious food, trying to ignore Lauren’s racing mind as she conjured reasons for why you hadn’t eaten last night and did her best to combat them, holding off judgement until you were able to tell her the full story.

When you finished eating, you gave her the abridged version: that you had met Eddie at work and run into him again at the grocery store yesterday. Glossing over the details of the store being attacked, you chose to omit Venom entirely and instead told Lauren that in the panic you'd been knocked over and hit your head, that Eddie had looked out for you and been kind enough to bring you home when you woke up.

Lauren was a touch suspicious, sensing your editing but uncertain what you were holding back. Still, she shrugged and you recognized the return of her teasing mood and held back a premature weary sigh.

“You know, that Eddie guy sure is nice to look at,” she signed with a grin. “And he's a biker boy. You always did have...interesting taste.”

You flushed violently, hiding your face to block her words.

“Stop!” you signed, going redder as Lauren laughed at you. You heard her making mock kissy noises when your phone suddenly began to ring. You both jumped at the sound and panic instantly set into your chest. Lauren noticed you freeze and came over to your chair, fishing the device out from your pocket. Her eyes widened and you saw her smile.

The image in her brain showed Eddie's caller ID. The ID you'd tiredly assigned him before sending your own name over text.

_Hot Mess Eddie_

The ringing cut off and a text chimed out almost immediately in its place. Same contact.

You stiffly held your hand out for your phone and Lauren passed it over with a smirk before grabbing your empty plate as an excuse to give you some space.

**Hey, sorry to call. I forgot.**

Forgot? Forgot the one thing everybody seemed to mark as your defining trait.

Another text.

**Reporter instinct. BTW, did you take my helmet last night?**

Hemet? Oh, the one you'd been wearing. If your memory was correct…

**It's on my coffee table** , you replied **. Do you need it?**

**Nah, but you’re gonna need it if you want me to pick you up later. You gonna be up for lunch?**

Your pulse quickened and you almost dropped your phone in shock. Was he...asking you out?

**I don’t have a shift tonight, so I can stay up. But why do you want to go out to lunch? I’m not exactly a conversationalist.**

It took almost a minute before you saw the little ellipse that meant he was writing out a reply.

**V wants me to tell you that he’s got a surprise. I still think it’s a bit early, but he’s giving me a headache for arguing. It’s pretty cool tho, gotta admit.**

Surprise? What? Why?

You heard Lauren snicker and saw a flash of your own face in her thoughts. Apparently your face was red enough that she could see you blushing from the kitchen and you instinctively turned away, willing the blood to leave your cheeks.

**Do you have a place in mind?** You typed slowly.

* * *

You did you best to suppress jitters as you stood at the curb, motorcycle helmet tucked under your arm. You’d requested Lauren stay inside, but you knew she was watching from her window--both to satisfy her curiosity and ensure your safety.

You heard their thoughts before you saw them. Much like actual voices, it started quiet as they entered “hearing” distance but became steadily louder along with the revving of the motorcycle’s engine.

Suddenly, you felt self-conscious. You were dressed nicely, but the priority of your outfit was comfort, not fashion. Your hair was also fine, but you began to wonder if maybe you should have done something special with it. This was supposed to be a lunch meetup, but you didn't know what type of venue it would be. Your heart rate picked up and you felt your anxiety starting to raise its vicious head.

You pushed back, trying to force deep breaths, to keep your thoughts under control. Yet the tunnel vision started to set in despite your best efforts. Fragmented thoughts began to whirl like multiple tornadoes and a rising sense of panic began to choke you, cutting off all air. Tears stung your eyes behind closed lids when suddenly you felt two strong hands rest on your shoulders and heard your name, though it was muffled under your roaring pulse.

“Hey! I think you’re having a panic attack! Are you breathing? Can you try breathing?”

The realization that someone was in front of you pulled you out of the whirlpool slightly. It may not have brought the world back from crumbling, but suddenly you felt like there was an anchor keeping you from entirely plummeting into the black hole.Your hands reached out against your will and you found yourself clinging to this person’s chest, hands twisted into what felt like leather.There was no air in your lungs--not that you could feel--and your throat was stubbornly unresponsive to every sound you tried to make. So you reached out with your last resort.

You couldn’t keep the mental communion open for long--your focus was too scattered, your emotions too sweeping--but for a brief moment, you sent a burst of your emotions into the person crouched in front of you. All of your panic, your desire to be comforted, you desperate need to re-learn breathing, you sent it out in an unspoken plea for help.

For a moment, nothing happened. Your anxiety spiked in immediate response; You asked for too much; You would be cast away to fall into the abyss; You were going to die here.

Then you felt the fabric under your fingers ripple, like a living being woven of some strange material, flexing like a cat leaning into human touch. You felt your hands sink into it, giving you a better grip just as you felt thick arms wrap around you, pulling you into the stranger’s solid chest.

A voice rumbled through that chest. You couldn’t understand what they said, but found yourself zeroed in on the sound of their breathing, the feel of their pulse. Their arms tensed and relaxed in time with each breath and you found yourself trying to mimic the movement with limited effectiveness. The vibrations of your anchor’s voice rippled through your body, accompanied by some kind of lower pitch you couldn’t identify. It made you shiver and that motion made you realize that you were quaking so hard that there was no way you could have supported yourself.

Eventually, the panic began to subside into exhaustion; your violent shudders calmed into small fits of shaking and then entirely faded away. Your mind rose from the pit of despair and the sounds of the world and the thoughts of others returned.

The first thing you became aware of was who held you--that double-toned mental voice was entirely unmistakeable.

“Yeah, I’ve got you,” Eddie was saying.

“ _ **WE** HAVE GOT YOU_,” Venom corrected and you felt the jacket ripple--or rather, the symbiote disguised as a jacket.

“You just need to keep breathing. As long as you breathe, you can make it.”

You heard footsteps coming from behind you on the pavement and you twisted to see Lauren running from the front door of the complex. She reached you and Eddie and dropped to one knee, looking you over worriedly.

“You good?” she signed. You shakily nodded and tried to pull yourself to your feet. Your knees buckled before you really got anywhere and ended up halfway dangling, clinging to Eddie like a baby koala. He chuckled.

“You think it’s okay if I carry you inside?”

Could he even lift you?

“ _EDDIE, WE ARE STILL HEALING. DON’T MOVE TOO FAST_.”

_"I know our limits, Vee. But we gotta make sure she's safe_."

You jumped when you felt new hands on your arm, but it was only Lauren trying to get your attention. She repeated Eddie's question in sign and you shakily gave an affirmative.

Eddie's arms were sturdy--no sign of the injury his other half had mentioned--as he carried your tired self back into the apartments. Lauren led him to her apartment and showed him to her bedroom, indicating she wanted me put in her bed. You protested in sign, but she conveniently didn't see your words.

It wasn't until you were laid on the bed that you realized how much your little attack had worn you out. The second your weight left Eddie's arms, your eyes slid shut and you yawned deeply.

"Go ahead and nap," Eddie encouraged. "I'll be out here...if your landlady is okay with it."

You tiredly gave a thumbs up and heard Venom's thoughts call out to you.

" _WE WILL KEEP YOU SAFE FROM ANYTHING. EVEN YOUR OWN BRAIN. SO DON'T HESITATE TO CALL OUT FOR US--IN ANY WAY YOU CAN_."

You couldn't help but smile as you slipped off into sleep.


End file.
